Taming Tess (The St. John Sibling Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

double-dealing, the least she'd expected her father to do was fire Harry. Instead, dear old dad chastised her for undermining her future husband, pointing out Harry had people skills. He had connections. So, what was the big deal if she helped her husband-to-be with his designs now and then?
    What was the big deal?
    The big deal was that daddy-dearest saw her only as a means to bring a son -in-law into the family business when he should have been grooming his daughter to take over. That's when she ended her engagement to Harry and resigned from the firm, refusing to comply with her father's twenty-first century version of an arranged marriage.
    Just her luck the man she'd hired to renovate her first project seemed to have the same outdated inclinations about family and marriage as her father. A man with forever etched all over his baby blues. A man with an outdated bias was no man for her. Besides, she wasn't looking for forever with any man.
    The gall of Roman St. John pound ing on her door when she was trying to unwind from the catastrophe for which he was to blame. And for what reason? To demand she give him a time when she'd be done so he could cook his steak.
    "Inconsiderate, self-serving --" Opening the drain, she climbed out of the tub. There’d be no more relaxing, thanks to Roman St, John. Never mind that her stomach growled with the ferocity of a lioness five days from her last meal.
    She grabbed up her clothes and the smell of smoke slapped her in the face. She threw the garments back on the floor and scanned the small room for something else to wear. There was nothing…unless she wanted to don one of St. John’s sweaty t-shirts.
    "Men! They expect us to be at their beck and call, to look our best and smile pretty. To make sure their shirts are pressed and their three-minute eggs are cooked to perfection! But can even one of them have the forethought to set out a robe for a woman?"
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    She entered the kitchen in a puff of steam and a pair of towels, one wrapped around her hair and the other around her torso, barely covering the most intimate parts of Tess's personal terrain.
    "The least you could have done was pu t a robe in the bathroom for me," she said none-too politely.
    Roman blinked at the enticing swell of breasts visible above the edge of a maroon towel and blankly repeated, "Robe?"
    "You can't expect me to put my smoky clothes back on?"
    Dumbly, he shook his head. It wasn't like he'd never seen a woman in a towel before. He was a man of some experience, the sort of experience he'd recently put on hold as a courtesy to the future Mrs. St. John, whomever she might be. But, he'd never seen Tess Abbot in a towel.
    Or experienced such mixed feelings at the same time. On one level, he was being chewed out and resented it. On another, he wanted her, harpy mouth and all.
    He tore his gaze away from her breasts and looked at her mouth in an attempt to break the spell. Bad choice. He wanted to press his lips to hers, if only to shut her up.
    Wrong. He wanted to possess those lush lips, and plunder her mouth with his tongue. To tear the towel from her body, swipe the dishes off the table, and take her right there amidst scattered utensils and spilled salad.
    "A robe, St. John?" she prompted, hands on hips.
    How could such terse words make those full, bow-shaped lips look so inviting? It had to be abstinence that had him lusting after the bane of his existence, and the sweetly compact breasts and forever legs within reach. He shouldn't have looked down. The woman had legs that climbed from ten red-painted toenails to eternity. And eternity was where he wanted to be right now.
    He groaned and headed for his bedroom, his voice oddly hoarse in his ears. "I'll find you something to wear."
    Roman breezed past her, ordering, "Keep an eye on the steak."
    "You expect me to go outside dressed like this?" Tess turned after him, flipping an edge of the towel wrapped around her torso.
    He paused in the doorway of his bedroom